


One Cream, Two Sugar

by ava_jamison



Category: Batman (Comics), Batman - All Media Types, Lois Lane (Comics), Superman (Comics), Superman/Batman (Comics)
Genre: Awkwardness, Batman is petrified, Coffee, Multi, Threesome, Worry, the care and feeding of superheroes
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-11-06
Updated: 2017-11-06
Packaged: 2019-01-30 09:14:57
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,945
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12650607
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ava_jamison/pseuds/ava_jamison
Summary: Forty-five minutes later, the blaze was out, and another hour later, all personnel and chemicals were safe and accounted for. Clark shared a few words with Lois, who was using some captain’s office to finish her report, then headed across the grounds. It was a cold night, and there was coffee for the rescue workers.In the base’s commissary, Bruce pushed a cup toward him. “Cream and two sugars.”“Thanks, Batman."Bruce shrugged, sipping his own. Black, of course.





	One Cream, Two Sugar

**Author's Note:**

> I wrote this ages ago. I'm taking a bit of a risk putting it up, since I don't really buy into this scenario, and because it will probably endear me to neither fans of Bruce/Clark, which I write, nor Lois/Clark, which I also write. My OTP is BatCat, so Bruce/Selina, don't worry. I have plans for you and I'll be back in the next few days. With something new!
> 
> However! Risky as this is to post, I'm on a mission, at the moment, to post all of my old work. I want to see how many words I end up with total. 
> 
> Happens after this story, but can certainly be read and understood without this story: Truth or Dare  
> Or this one, which happens before that: [Kal Takes One for the Team](https://archiveofourown.org/works/12551384)  
> Or this one, which happens before that: [Gathering Data](28410124)

Lois navigated the crowded room, sidestepping Justice Leaguers, a cup of punch in each hand. “Good job, Smallville. Nice turnout.” 

Clark grinned, clinking the cup she handed him to hers. He’d been a little nervous about several things lately, but heading the hospitality committee? So far so good. 

“Dark, cowled and mopey over there can’t take his eyes off you.”

“He’s lonely, Lois.”

“What else is n—”

“The boys are out of town and Alfred’s gone to see his brother.”

“Hmm.” She tilted her head, watching Batman try to ignore whatever it was Ollie was trying to tell him. “Not lonely enough to talk to Ollie.”

“Well, that’s Ollie. You really can’t blame—”

“Or Dinah, or Hal, or anybody else who’s tried to talk to him tonight.”

“Talked to me.”

“Yeah, big guy. Funny how that works, huh?” She punched him in the shoulder. 

“Can’t just let that go, can you?”

“Oh come on. Like you would?” 

“I’ve tried.”

“If the situation was reversed? Say…” Lois scanned the room. “Hawkgirl, maybe? You’d so be into that.” 

“Lois, I—”

“He came on to you.”

Clark pulled her further away from the nearest cluster of guests. “Keep your voice down.” 

“Everybody doesn’t have super hearing.”

“And it wasn’t—it wasn’t… You’re acting like it was…”

“Uh huh.”

“Stop giving me that look. Never should have even said anything, L—”

“Too much of a Boy Scout not to say something, Clark.”

“I’m not a—” 

“Looks like he lost his best friend.” Lois shrugged. “Probably thinks he has…”

“I didn’t mean to make him feel—”

Lois’s cell vibrated. “You know how I feel.” She flipped her phone to check the number. “It’s Perry.” 

Clark sipped his punch, waited. Watched Lois pace as she took the call. Watched Bruce, across the room, nod as Diana talked about a peace treaty. Bruce really did look down. She squeezed his shoulder and he put his gloved hand over hers for a split second. Then they both looked over at Clark. 

“Okay.” Lois ended her call. “Big story. Fire at Slocum AFB. Chemical munitions storage.”

“I’ll go too.”

“Better come as you are. Don’t scoop me, buddy.” Lois grinned, then cocked a thumb at Batman. “Bring him, too.”

_________________________________________________________________________________

 

Forty-five minutes later, the blaze was out, and another hour later, all personnel and chemicals were safe and accounted for. Clark shared a few words with Lois, who was using some captain’s office to finish her report, then headed across the grounds. It was a cold night, and there was coffee for the rescue workers. 

In the base’s commissary, Bruce pushed a cup toward him. “Cream and two sugars.”

“Thanks, Bruce."

Bruce shrugged, sipping his own. Black, of course.

“Bruce, I…” 

“Don’t.”

“Don’t what?”

“Don’t. Just don’t.” 

Clark held his breath, waited. But that was all he was going to get. He shook his head. “Let’s get out of here.”

“What about Lois?” 

“Finishing her story. Come on. This is lousy coffee.” 

“Need to get back to Gotham.” Bruce put his cup down, and minutes later, Clark put them both down on a rooftop a block away from his apartment. 

“Clark?”

“So you can brood in peace? What’s wrong with a cup of coffee?”

“Don’t—”

“Hang on.” Clark tried to keep his voice casual. "Can’t use the door dressed like this.” He zipped to his place, popped a window, switched on the lamp on Lois’s nightstand, and was back. 

“My car?”

“I’m bringing you in.”

Bruce held up his hand in protest.

“Lois buys the good stuff.” Clark lifted him, and since it was easier to go in the window that way, picked him up in something close to a bride’s carry. Bruce did not approve, his body rigid as he resisted, but it’s not like he had a choice—not if Superman wanted to hold him. Bruce didn’t have time to do more than say, “Don’t—” before Clark was swinging him into the apartment.

“This is your—”

“Yeah. Bedroom.” 

He could hear Bruce’s heart racing harder than it had during the fire. 

“It’s not the easiest way in.”

“Door’s the easiest way in, Bruce.”

“You have a larger window—”

“Look, detective, I just—” Clark swiped a hand through his hair. “Do you think you could take off that cowl for a minute? I need to talk to y—”

“You can see through the cowl, can’t you, Superman?

“You know what I mean, Bruce.” 

He headed for the door, shaking his head. “I shouldn’t have—”

Clark blocked his exit. 

Bruce crossed his arms. “Move.”

“No.” Clark crossed his own, mirroring Bruce’s stance. His pulse was now racing as fast as Bruce’s but he tried it anyway: a predatory step closer. Bruce didn’t give, but his nostrils flared. 

“Two minutes, all I want. And pull back the cowl.”

Bruce glared at him, his mouth a thin, bitter line. He yanked the thing back, but he wasn’t glaring, not really. He just looked tired. There was a smudge of soot on his cheek outlining the edge of the mask and without thinking, Clark swiped his thumb across it. 

Bruce pressed into the touch, closing his eyes. 

“Bruce, I—”

His eyes opened, wide and wild. “Don’t—”

“Always have to be in charge, don’t you?” Clark leaned in. Kissed him. 

Their lips brushed. It was awkward, and their noses bumped, but Clark felt Bruce relax, just for a minute, against him.

Then he growled, pushing away. “We can’t do this.”

“But you want to.”

Bruce crossed his arms again, not saying anything.

“Then do it, Bruce.”

“You don’t…”

“I did, didn’t I?”

“Once. Because you had to.” Bruce stared at the window, not looking at Clark at all and looking very much like he was planning his escape. “You’re the only one I’d—” He sighed. “You’d never cheat on Lois.”

Clark swallowed. “It’s not cheating if Lois…”

He had Bruce’s full attention now, eyes getting wider and wider. “It’s not cheating if…” 

Clark reached for him and Bruce went stiff all over. Looked horrified but didn’t push him away, so Clark put his hand on Bruce’s chin, lifting it the couple of inches he wanted, tilting his own head and leaning in.

This kiss was different. Sweeter. He ran his tongue over Bruce’s lips and Bruce huffed out coffee breath, his body arching toward him and his mouth opening as his eyes fluttered shut.

Clark smiled just a bit as his tongue entered Bruce’s mouth. Deepened the kiss and tightened the hand on Bruce’s shoulder. 

Bruce groaned and it sounded like he was hurting, like the time he’d gotten hit with that cyber ray, but he didn’t stop. Kissed him back, hard. Pulled him closer so that they were groin to groin. 

He nudged him toward the bed and Bruce’s eyes flew open. “No, Clark.”

“It’s okay, Bruce.” He patted his shoulder, pulling him by the hip. “It’s really okay.”

Bruce stumbled, his eyes dazed, his body tensed–looking like any minute he could bolt, but he let himself be led, tripping a little over his own feet.

Clark maneuvered things so that Bruce was the one with his back to the bed and kissed him as the backs of his knees hit the mattress, throwing him off and pushing him down to sit. 

“I don’t know,” Bruce said, looking as confused as Clark had ever seen him.

“Me either, Bruce. You’re my best friend.”

Bruce looked down at his fists, balled in his lap. 

Clark’s hand brushed Bruce’s cheek, turning his face so that he could look into dark blue eyes. “And you want something a little more than—” Clark searched for the right words. “You want…”

Bruce’s voice was rough. Just barely audible. “I want…” 

As Clark moved to kiss him again, Bruce startled, came back to himself, cleared his throat. “It’s not cheating if Lois… what, Clark?

“Um…” Clark dropped his voice. “Knows.”

“Knows…what,” he said, spitting out his words carefully, like he was interrogating a suspect. A guilty one. His eyes narrowed. “What did you tell her?”

“Bruce...” 

“What, exactly?”

“How—you know. How we had to…” 

Bruce blinked. “I see.” His teeth drew back in something that was nothing like a smile. “Did you tell her… it was reciprocal?”

Clark shifted on the bed, making the mattress creak. “Well, I… I didn’t tell her every detail, Bruce. Just stuck with the overall—”

“So that’s no, then.” Bruce’s brow arched. “Convenient.”

“And about last week—”

“You made three field errors, Clark. Two tactical, one spatial.”

“That’s no reason to—”

“I assessed your combat readiness, found it lacking, and recommended a possible solution.”

“That’s not what it sounded like, Br—”

“Two weeks on an off-world mission, eighteen hour workdays. I formed a hypothesis after calculating how long since your last probable ejac—”

“Bruce!” Clark caught himself just before he pushed at the bridge of his nose, aiming for glasses that weren’t there. 

“You were a danger to yourself and others, Clark. When you err, it puts all of our lives and the mission at risk.”

Clark wasn’t able to completely keep the sarcasm out of his voice. “So that’s why you offered?” 

“I’m a detective, Clark. It’s my job to read people.” 

“Oh really.”

Bruce ignored Clark’s glare, “Your excess… energy, shall we call it?”

“What? No! No we shall not call it—”

“What, then?” Bruce pressed his advantage, suddenly in his element. He leaned fractionally closer. “You don’t get any… relief for a while—a little time alone? A little time with the wife?” 

Clark snorted. “Oh, and you never—”

Bruce shrugged. “I can sublimate if I have to. You can’t. It starts to… show.”

“I don’t know why you’d—”

Bruce gave him a long, sideways glance. It was the most comfortable Clark had seen him all night. He stretched a little, straightened and relaxed his posture, graceful and sinuous. “I simply encouraged you to...” he paused for a millisecond, close enough that Clark could feel his breath against his face, “take the edge off.”

Clark yelped when he reached for his hip, yanking him toward him.

Bruce’s voice was a low growl. “But you didn’t want to.” 

“It’s—”

“What did Lois say, Clark?”

“I said he should have let you,” Lois said, slipping into the darkened room.

Bruce jumped, then froze.

Clark, even though he’d heard her come in the front door, known this was coming, felt his heart skip a beat, thudding in his chest.

“What?” Lois dropped the heels she’d been carrying since she let herself in the apartment. “You’re not the only one who can be stealthy. How do you think I get my really big stories?” She smoothed her black silk party dress. “And it’s not like you weren’t distracted, Bruce.” 

She crawled up on the bed behind them, letting her hand skate over Clark’s S-shield. “The big guy here can be very distracting.”

Her other hand swept down Bruce’s chest. 

His eyes were huge. “I have to go.”

“No.” Her fingers clamped around his thigh. Her eyes shot to Clark. “You didn’t tell him yet, then.”

Clark knew his face was turning as red as his cape. “I,” he tried. “I didn’t—”

Lois saved him from having to finish that sentence, leaning in for a sloppy, wet kiss.

Clark kissed her back. 

Bruce’s hand, still on Clark’s hip, was shaking. Infinitesimally, invisible to anybody but him, but yes. Shaking. Clark covered it with his own, squeezing.

When Lois let him up for air, he met Bruce’s eyes. Lois’s first, then Bruce’s. They looked… they looked like he felt. Frightened? Was that fright?

A knot of panic coiled in his stomach. 

But then Lois reached for Bruce’s chin and he closed his eyes as she caught his lips with her own. Her mouth still glittered with Clark’s spit, and Clark's sense of panic unfurled into something altogether different, spreading out from his center and radiating in all directions—surging up through his chest and down—much, much lower.

Bruce let her kiss him, and opened his eyes to look at Clark. Whatever he saw there made him raise an eyebrow. Made him kiss her back. Made him slip his tongue, quite obviously, into her mouth. 

Lois watched Clark now too, eyes crinkled at the corners with a little smile. She sat back on her heels, licking her lips.

Bruce ran his tongue over his teeth, gaze moving from her to Clark and then back again. 

She was smug, self-satisfied. She tilted her head at Bruce. It was a dare, and Lois was a very smart woman because of course, being Bruce, he took it. 

Moving for Clark like Batman going in for the kill, he kissed him, just as wet and messy as Lois had a minute ago, and Clark wasn’t able to do anything except moan into his mouth at the taste, Lois mingled with Bruce. He let Bruce take what he wanted, hot and wet and he gasped when Lois joined in, absolutely unable to believe that this was happening, that their two tongues were both slipping into his mouth.

Hands reached for him and it was… like a dream. A beautiful, surreal dream. The two people he most felt…this way about—Clark couldn’t quite come up with a label right now—there were too many, they were too limiting. Everything was on overload, and he was high from the taste and the smell and the feel of the both of them, mingling and blending and driving him to a place he'd never been.

He was on his back without even knowing who’d pushed him down, who got him that way, and the sounds of skin and rustling clothes made his eyes roll back in his head. Hands were tugging at his tights and he tried to help both of them get naked, but his fingers were clumsy with yearning and they did most of the work, pushing tights down and her dress up and Lois wasn’t wearing underwear. Her thighs were already damp and the scent of her desire filled the softly lit bedroom. 

He knew this was an experiment, but for which one of them? And then it didn’t matter, because maybe it was for all of them and he was just lucky enough to be in the middle, with Lois on one side and Bruce on the other. Two hands wrapped around him—one slim and strong, the other big and stronger—and he gave up, gave himself over and stopped thinking. He could do this, press his fingers inside her slick warmth and make a fist for Bruce to push into.

Clark closed his eyes and just felt. Felt and listened and drank them in: Bruce’s soft pant in his ear, Lois’s breathy sigh as she touched herself while he filled her with his fingers—the love and lust and energy enfolding them all. 

Who knew what would happen when this was over? He had a guess and it wouldn’t be—couldn’t be as easy as this, because nothing could be as easy as this. Nothing could be as easy as coming in their hands. He cried out as the pleasure flooded him, Lois clenching around his fingers, moaning into his mouth as she climaxed moments later.

She collapsed on his chest, watching him work Bruce, who had his eyes closed, head thrown back. Slowly, she reached across Clark, adding her own touch, skimming along his arms, his thighs, teasing.

Clark slid his arm under Bruce’s shoulder. “Yes, Bruce,” he said, voice soft. “Yes, Bruce. Come for us.” He pulled him toward him and Bruce didn’t make a sound, but came with a shudder in his arms, splashing wet and warm all over Clark and himself.

They lay like that—one sticky mess—and no one said a word, their ragged breathing slowly returning to normal.

_________________________________________________________________________________

 

Clark woke, irritated that he'd drifted off. The shower was running, and Lois was clanking around in the kitchen, making coffee.

She brought him a cup. “You’re a mess, Smallville.” She tousled his hair, then combed it into place with her fingers. 

“Yeah?”

“Yeah.” Her eyes darted to the closed bathroom door. “Better get Batman home before sun-up. Heard he turns into a pumpkin or something.”

He kissed her. For her lame joke and for letting him—them—have this.

“Not now, Romeo.” She took a sip of his coffee, even though it was fixed his way and she took hers plain. 

The shower stopped. Clark imagined Bruce redressing, replacing all of his armor. Ready to pretend this never happened.

“Made him a cup, too. You promised him coffee, right?” She winked, the faintest of smiles creeping at the edge of her lips.

He knew he looked as unsure, as apprehensive as he’d ever felt. But he gave her a small smile back.

“You’re adorable,” she said. “But sticky. Looks like you got most of the wet spot.” 

"Think I'll use the hall shower." 

"Here." She handed him a fresh suit, like she knew it'd be easier for him to face Bruce again in the kitchen. After he'd cleaned up.

“Bruce and I’ll have a little chat while you do. Feel free to use those super ears of yours to listen up.”

“Already read you loud and clear, Lois.”

“Just want to make sure he does. You didn’t seem to tell him earlier.” 

In the hallway, she turned. “Oh, and Clark? No more fooling around tonight until you get back. That—what term do I want? That roll in the hay… Hmm.” She pretended to think. “Took the edge off. But I’m still going to need a little super one-on-one when you get back.”

**Author's Note:**

> I am taking prompts in the comments. No promises, obviously, but I'm happy to take ideas-not for sequels--I can't write another threesome of these three--but for new stories. Any pairing! I've almost finished posting all of the old! Also, feedback--kudos and comments--are adored and cuddled.


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